Ursula’s answer to “How do you deal with writer’s block?” > Likes and Comments

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Ursula Walker Street Sweeper, Street Sweeper: I hear you from my window in the
morning’s dark. You loudly scream by my house there where I live in
close proximity to the local park.

Though you work hard, I often sincerely wish that you were not
quite so loud. Your voice makes me hide under my pillow as an escape
from your great roar—though even five pillows later I still hear and
must deal with your audaciously brash chore.

You are tough, and strong as your yellow-flesh comes flashing by
carrying away with speed each discarded little thing found--perhaps
torn—often gray and worn (whether new or old), whatever may happen to
be on our the streets there in your way.

Powerful you are in your might. I look out at you through the early
morning’s dim light with sleepy eyes which open to view your exact
process to remove all residue and disarray from the areas in which we
park our cars and sometimes allow our children to play.

Steady is the plan for your daily tasks. So dependable are you that
without your diligent relief, most city streets would have an untold
build-up of long lasting paper and probably would be miles high in
their portion and heap of trash.

Street Sweeper, Street Sweeper: It was just last week. But today
there you are attending to the appointed once-a-week journey where
you take away life’s slip-ups and stains. Though loud and annoying at
your chosen time of morning, I sometimes wish that I could “friend”
you to clean, and sweep, and stroke away the haze and debris
I see today.


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